


have you ever seen the rain?

by Nihil



Category: Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms
Genre: Don't Take This Too Seriously, Fluff and Crack, Other, Self Indulgent As Fuck, also some sigma/no-name here or there, fluffy crack, gilkidu trash hours, mayhaps some other ships, prolly mostly crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2019-09-03
Packaged: 2020-09-01 22:02:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20265208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nihil/pseuds/Nihil
Summary: in which Gil sets out to rebuild his kingdom and there's no mud to help him do it this time.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> title is prolly prone to changing with each chapter. or i may just keep it cause i'm lazy. either it way it at least fits with the first chapter sorta. if you squint. it's more for the reference. 
> 
> don't take this too seriously. it's a collection of unedited snippets that i yeet out when the mood hits me.
> 
> literally just mindless self indulgence.

Crimson eyes stared narrow from his perch atop the barren hillside. Ruins, that was all that was left to mark the existence of his once great home. Ruins that had no doubt been raped and pillaged, had whatever works of man that survived the flow of time taken from them. He could imagine them now. Sequestered off in some dark room in a museum, poked and prodded at by mortal anthropologist as they tried to grasp the greatness that had long since left them.

Or, perhaps even worst, they were displayed openly, to perhaps awe screaming children and gormless elderly. Like some common party favor. 

The thought raised smoke that clouded his gaze, and his fist clenched at his side. He would rebuke them for that. Humanity had forgotten its king and what he had wrought for far too long, the weight that it carried with them. 

A hand gripped his shoulder tightly, and he exhaled, extinguished that ember that had lodged itself below his heart, threatened to set it ablaze. They were right. He was getting ahead of himself. He still had a kingdom that he needed to resurrect from the ground upwards-

Nay, his start was even further down. Even the river had left his city in the time he had left his Garden.

The King of Heroes exhaled once more, saw them move from the corner of his eye, and he turned away from the eyesore that his city had aged into. Their face was still as perfect as he could recall from thousands of dreams, and it still made his heart beat in a way that made him feel oh-so-young again. Even after having gained physical forms to walk this Earth together again, some year later it was still hard to fathom that this was his reality once more. 

He reached out a hand and brushed a thumb across a cheek. Smooth and cool underneath his touch, it felt more a work of clay than the warmth that would define a lesser human. They leaned into their king's touch, and he smirked. It was like their glory days. The king striding his path, far above the kin of his subjects, all the while a doll made from the mud arrogantly declared themselves his equal and went about advising him. An impossible, a task that not even the gods themselves had managed when they still had sway on the world, and yet against everything, they had succeeded and set themselves un-moving at his side. 

It was the happiest he had ever gotten at being proven wrong.

Gilgamesh shook himself from his reverie and made his focus turn onto the dilapidated remnants of Uruk. He regarded them for a few more moments, then finally voiced his thoughts. 

"We need the rain." More than the rain, they needed a torrential downpour that would bring floods to the whole of the region, to create once-again a life giving river that had allowed Uruk to prosper originally. 

"We need to remake the river." He stated simply, and he knew how he would do such a thing, were he unfettered. He had more than one way to destroy the world. He could reveal to them Truth, or he could summon down upon them the Surge of Utnapishtim. He could flood the whole of this world and bring himself more than ample water to facilitate the reconstruction.

Only at the cost of most every of his subjects, and the sacred ground that he now stood upon. Perhaps a viable option if he had taken leave of his senses. Perhaps, in this theoretical scenario, he would save himself the week and simply unleash that flawed wish granting device. There were so many of them now, it wouldn't take much time for him to procure one. He would cover the world in its many curses and he would rule over the remnants, those who set themselves apart from the rest of the mongrels, who survived the hellscape that he had condemned them too.

Perhaps he would find a way to curse Enkidu into lifeless clay once more while he was at it.

He snorted. Enkidu finally spoke, their voice lifting like bird song. "Let's go, Gil. You'll only work yourself into a frenzy regarding the ruins for much longer." 

They were right, of course. Were his thoughts to continue down this trail, he would realize that summoning a river was long work, that would require the king to request the help of a mongrel lesser who was better suited to such smaller scale things-

That hand was on his shoulder again and cool lips were brushing against his ear.

"You're thinking too much. Let's go." And they tugged at him, and he had made no move to resist, turning his back from Uruk to face Enkidu in their brilliance and they two of them started to make their way 'cross the sands.

Uruk would rise once more, yet for the moment, he was perfectly content to relish in his time with them.


	2. temperature play or smth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> cause gil's hot and enki's cold

Enkidu is cold to the touch, Gilgamesh observes.

He has observed this so many thousand times in the many years that they have spent together, yet he still allows his thoughts to wander to the shape of his only friend, as to why that is.

Though they appear and act more human than Gilgamesh had ever met, despite their insistence that they are simply a tool, they are still molded from clay. Though through their clay they are able to feel his touch upon them, it is not human skin. It does not produce its own heat, nor does it keep the heat from its surroundings well.

Gilgamesh reaches out, lays a hand upon Enkidu's own, fingers lightly brushing. The king is never wrong. Even though they stride through arid lands, Enkidu is still cool to his touch. He feels refreshing. 

Enkidu looks over their shoulder, and they raise a brow.

Gilgamesh grabs hold of Enkiud's hand and halts himself, forces Enkidu to do much of the same, though he knows they never minded. He steps towards his other half, and deceptively strong arms come to loop around his neck and rest on his shoulders. His own come around Enkidu's trim waist, and there is no more distance there. The king exhales.

"You are cold."

Birdsong escapes perfect lips as they laugh and the noon sun is dimmed in comparison for the moment it exists. "You stand hotter than the sun." It was a compliment, of course. His heat Enkidu craved as though a man would water, the creation of the gods had revealed idly over shared drinks in dark nights many times over long years. Enkidu had felt many people in their life, yet none had heat that permeated their skin, had a presence that lingered and warmed them for so long. His heat was undeniably that of the King's and the King was more than willing to share this treasure.

Crimson eyes regarded, blazing, and his gaze was met without cool flint. That was all he needed. His head titled and he descended much like some crashing star, lips crashing against Enkidu's. 

Uruk would not see them until two days after they were expected to return.


End file.
